


Sweet like coffee

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Bandom, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Secret Santa, mtyg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: Sweet Christmas coffee-shop AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sperrywink, for Make the Yuletide Gay, 2008

It was nearly half an hour since they’d locked the front door and flipped the sign. Between them Chris and Nick had packed the food into the big fridge, hauled out the trash bags, scraped down the toaster grills, bleach-washed the food display fridges, and switched the manager mandated in-store Christmas Music For Morons to the new CD Nick had picked up on his way in that morning.

The indie release had two strong advantages over the official in-store music – Chris and Nick hadn’t heard it several million times already, and the singer could actually hit the notes they were aiming for.

Right now Chris and Nick were both jammed in the dinky stock room, shoulder barging each other and grinning as they both tried to pass the buck about who was going to sweeping the seating area of the coffee shop. Sweeping up wasn’t so bad, but whoever did the sweeping also had to kick out their last two customers.

"I did it last time I closed," Nick protested.

"So? I did it yesterday." Chris showed the broom forcibly back towards Nick and held his hands high, as though disclaiming all knowledge of why the broom handle was now clattering against the wall.

"Because I opened, you dick."

"Hey, I didn’t do the schedules. I sure as hell wouldn’t have given myself a double late on the same night as The Kings were playing, would I?"

"So, what, I have to kick Sweet Specs and Tattoo Dude out because you missed a gig? How’s that fair?"

"Life isn’t fair, princess," Chris replied with a triumphant grin, and leaned over to sneak one hand under Nick’s uniform apron to give Nick’s ass an appreciative squeeze.

Nick glared, and twisted away. One of the reasons they’d taken so long to hook up had been the potential awkwardness of working with your boyfriend, and Nick was still less comfortable with PDAs in the workplace than Chris was.

"Good to know you’re not trying to sell me anything," he admitted grudgingly, "but just ’cos I love you doesn’t mean I’ll always do your bidding."

"I don’t get one lousy ‘as you wish’?" Chris pouted, and Nick shook his head, smiling.

"Fine!" Nick grabbed the broom. "I’ll go play Grinch and kick them out. You’re doing the loos, though."

Chris twisted around, to peer out into the store proper, where Tattoo Dude was slouched down in one of the armchairs, face obscured by the large format graphic novel he had been engrossed in all evening. He was holding it by the top, in the most awkward looking position imaginable, an extra-large peppermint mocha balanced against one thigh.

A few feet away, the guy Nick had dubbed ‘Sweet Specs’ was taking advantage of being alone in the store to watch Tattoo Dude openly, rather than the fleeting stealth-looks that he usually braved when he realised he might be being watched.

The guy was wearing all black, with big boots, and Chris knew there was a ferociously product-slicked scenester hairstyle under that hat, but he might as well have rolled around in pink glitter for all the good it could do his image when he was sitting there, all knock-nees and long limbs, gazing adoringly at someone to whom, to the best of Chris's knowledge, he'd never even spoken. You could almost see the hearts and bluebirds floating above his head.

Splashing bleach around in the toilets was way, way easier than kicking those two out into the night.

Hell, a year ago, Chris had been staring at Nick with those self-same blinking hearts in his eyes, and just think how that would have worked out if someone had kept separating them, instead of their friends ganging up to force Nick to make a move?

"Deal – now get out there and separate the smitten, or we’ll be here all night."

*****

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ," Nick chanted, as Chris pulled gently on Nick’s balls, and rubbed his tongue under Nick’s glans, and sucked even harder. Nick thrashed his legs and tried to lift his hips, but Chris leaned over, pinning Nick and taking him deeper in a single move; one which earned him a sweet rush of Nick’s flavour. Nick’s voice was going up, his breathing coming in moans and gasps, and Chris could feel Nick’s pulse under his hand, in his mouth. Fuck, if going down on Nick wasn’t the hottest thing out there.

Chris redoubled his efforts, sucking and pushing and stroking and growling deep in his throat, and was rewarded with Nick begging, and arching, and digging his fingers into Chris’s shoulder and coming in several long, juddering, waves.

Chris was out of breath and hard as nails when he pulled off, replacing his mouth with a gentle hand, and scooting up the bed to collapse against Nick’s shoulder.

Nick’s hot, heavy, arm wrapped around Chris, and Nick pressed a sloppy kiss to Chris’s forehead. They didn’t need any words, especially not when Nick’s hand worked its way between them to close around Chris’s cock, jerking him off, slow and lazy and intense.

They were drifting off to sleep when Nick rolled over onto his back, dropped his far arm back onto the pillows with a thump, and took a deep breath. Chris blinked himself more awake.

"You think Tattoo Dude has noticed Sweet Specs?" Nick asked.

They were curled up in the dark, warm and naked, and yet, Nick wanted to talk about customers from the store. Somehow that just made Chris love Nick more, even as it made Chris really uncomfortable to think about it. Eighteen months ago, he could have been properly bitter and cynical, and now look at him. Positively sappy.

"I don’t know – I guess not? I mean, it’s really obvious to us, right, but that guy – he’s not looking for it, for one thing. He’s pretty focussed too – always got his head in a book."

"You think he’s straight, then?"

Chris shrugged, and then snuggled closer to Nick’s bare chest. "He’s certainly not in our top ten campest customers. I mean, that kind of sucks for Specs – unrequited lust for a straight guy might be a rite of passage or something, but it still sucks in all the bad ways - but what are the odds?"

"I’ve never seen him with a girl," Nick said after a few minutes’ silence.

"Tattoo Guy? I’ve never seen him with another human being. By that reasoning you’re saying he’s into, I don’t know, bananas."

"Bananas?" Nick shifted, rolling up on one elbow, and tipping Chris down into the dip in the mattress. Chris slid his top arm around Nick’s waist and held on, until Nick repeated, "Bananas, Chris? Do I want to ask?"

"What? A guy can’t invent a fetish without you casting aspersions?"

"Casting a-what now?" Nick said, and even in the dark Chris could tell Nick was smiling.

"Stop it." Chris squeezed extra hard for a second. "You’re not that dumb, and I know it."

"Yeah, yeah," Nick mumbled. "But, seriously, how’d we know Tattoo Dude isn’t open to the possibility of a cute boy who adores him? Maybe he just never noticed, and right now this second, he’s home alone and wishing for a guy to share his bed with, not knowing that if he just looked up from those books of his, Specs is right there, wanting him."

"What if he has noticed, and he doesn’t want a guy – or he doesn’t want that guy – and he’s trying to be nice about it. Avoid flat out rejection. You ever think of that?"

"Who wouldn’t want Specs?" Nick sounded genuinely surprised for a guy who had been pretty enthusiastic about being in bed with someone about as far as you could get from Specs while still being a man.

"Me?" Chris said. "You?"

"Yeah, but I got you, so I’m not looking. If I was single, and there was some guy staring at me like that, I’d think about it. Even if he is too bony for me. Kind of young, too."

"Yeah," Chris admitted. "Maybe I’d think about it. Even though he’s not my type. But who’s to say Tattoo Dude’s not beating off other offers with a stick?"

"You have a type?" Nick was smiling again, and curling around to kiss the side of Chris’s head. Chris having a type - and Nick being it - had been a primary argument during the intervention that had ended up with Nick waiting outside the back door of Sacred Beans at closing time to kiss Chris under some hastily purchased mistletoe last Christmas.

Chris turned his head, lifting his lips to find Nick’s, and for a moment all that existed was the hot, dry press of lips, and the lewd, slick, twist of Nick’s tongue, touching his. They’d already gotten off once, but even so, the touch made Chris’s dick start to pay attention again.

*****

"You know." Chris took advantage of a brief break in the cavalcade of people looking for a gingerbread spiced latte to revive them after a hard day’s Christmas shopping to haul Nick’s ear down low enough to whisper into.

"We’re not actually supposed to be giving away all the Christmas cupcakes, and Johnny’s going to kill you if he finds out."

Nick looked around guiltily, and then stopped, stood up straight and shook his head.

"Nah – there’s no way the boss is going to come in today, and what’s a few cupcakes compared to keeping the regulars happy?"

"So you recognised those girls with the tattoos?"

"No? But they might become regulars if they liked the cake."

Chris shook his head. "You’re nuts, you know that?"

Nick smirked. "And it’s part of my plan."

"You have a plan? You have a plan you didn’t tell me about?"

Nick nodded, but just then a lady pushing a bag-laden stroller came up to the counter, so Chris had to hold off beating his boyfriend for keeping secrets long enough for Nick to take her order, and then Chris was juggling soya milk and finding a jug to use to heat a jar of baby food, a service which – swear to God – no one ever asked for unless it was one of the three busiest days of the year.

Within the three minutes it took for Chris to find a jug that wasn’t clearly labelled as being for something else, the queue of mugs on the counter was back, and it must have been a full twenty minutes of taking and making orders before Chris and Nick got another chance to say anything to each other that wasn’t ‘skinny dry cap’ or ‘no cream’.

"So, this plan," Chris said, quietly, as soon as there was a lull.

"Plan? Oh, the plan. Tattoo Dude is totally queer," Nick said, decisively.

"He’s – what?"

"Gay. Totally. He didn’t even blink."

"Blink? Nick, you’re not making any sense."

"The cakes? Dude, you are slow today. Why’d you think I was giving out cup cakes in the first place?"

"Christmas spirit? They contain mind control drugs? A secret desire to stick it to the boss man using confectionery?"

Nick shook his head. "Although I like the mind control. No, um. You know he likes sweet stuff, right?"

Nick tilted his head towards Tattoo Dude, who’d come in a couple of hours ago, and taken over a corner chair by plonking a three inch stack of loose comics issues on the table next to it, which he was steadily reading his way through. The decimated remains of both a Christmas cupcake – red crumbs and lurid green buttercream smears – and a chocolate muffin could be seen on a plate next to the comics. Skinny little dude must have the metabolism of a hummingbird because, yes, Chris had noticed that he liked the sweet stuff, and, no, it didn’t show.

"Right," Chris said, like Tattoo Dude’s sweet tooth had any kind of logical connection to the guy’s orientation.

"And you know I was giving all those girls freebies?"

"Right. No. Hang on. You’re drawing conclusions about the guy’s gayness based on whether or not he drools at the sight of women eating cake?"

"Pretty much." Nick shrugged easily, like that made perfect sense.

"Oh man," Chris sighed. "Where do I even start with what’s wrong with that?" He dropped his head into his hands in a pantomime of despair.

"Is he okay?" came a voice Chris didn’t recognise. He looked up, only to see Specs and Nick staring back at him. Nick was smirking.

"I’m fine – and how are you? Your usual?" Chris asked, already stabbing at the double-shot button on the espresso machine, and trying not to give away the fact they’d just been talking about the guy’s unsubtle crush.

"Oh, and we have a Christmas special for our regulars." Nick swooped in, smooth as anything. "Have a Christmas cupcake, on the house."

"Oh, hey. Thanks," Specs said, looking down at his wallet rather than meeting Nick's eye, but taking the offered cupcake, while Chris splashed two shots of Pumpkin Spice into an extra-large mug.

A couple of customers later, Nick sidestepped over, under the guise of putting a panini under the grill press, and leaned over Chris’s shoulder.

"Look at Tattoo Dude, and then tell me my plan was dumb," he whispered.

Chris carefully focussed on wiping down the steam nozzle, and then, when Nick had his back turned, serving up the panini, peered around the machine.

Oh.

Oh, Nick’s plan was not only not-dumb, it might actually be brilliant.

There was Specs, nibbling away on his cup cake, alternately taking a bite of cake and licking his fingers to catch the sticky crumbs, and there, across the room, was Tattoos, watching.

Not, like, staring with rapt attention or anything, but every few seconds his head would lift, and he’d glance over, and then lick his own lips as he blushed and ducked his head.

He was totally watching, in a sexy-thoughts kind of way.

Go Spec’s gaydar, Chris thought. And go Nick’s. And then the door opened, with another gust of cold draft, and a whole troop of teenagers came into the store, all chatter and ringtones, and Chris and Nick were out of time to watch their favourite regulars watching each other.

Chris didn’t see Tattoos leave, but when he next looked over, Specs was gazing glumly at his cell phone, and the corner seat was empty.

*****

The next day was Sunday, and Chris’s day off, but when he dropped into Sacred Beans (carefully hiding the bag containing Nick’s present inside an obnoxiously pink ‘I bought gifts for my sisters’ one-) Nick reported that neither Tattoo not Specs had made an appearance.

Chris was a little surprised to realise that he was disappointed.

Maybe Specs had left town for the holidays – he’d only been coming in for a few months, and he looked about the right age to be a student. Maybe he and Tattoos had caught each others’ eye and both of them were too embarrassed to ever come in again? Maybe they were just not in the town centre today, or at their respective jobs, or being hung-over and staying in bed like sane people? Maybe they were both out of cash for organic, free-range, foofy coffee drinks?

"We may never know," Chris said solemnly, until Nick stuck his tongue out at him, and Chris had to laugh. "Eh," he said. "I’m going to head back to the flat – let me know if there’s a new instalment in the soap opera."

"Will do," Nick said, with a nod of the head. "Don’t forget to get peanut butter. I used the last bit this morning."

"Already did. See you later." Chris checked around them quickly, and then blew Nick a kiss.

Nick rolled his eyes and grinned, and Chris wandered back onto the damp streets wondering if this was what domestic bliss felt like. It was so ordinary on the one hand, and yet so very far from how his life had been a year ago.

A year, man. Well, a year in tomorrow – Christmas eve. He’d never have dared to hope for a year, back when he was boring his friends rigid pining after the hot new kid at work, and now look at him! A confirmed romantic, really, between the warm fuzzy feeling of knowing that Nick considered Chris’s crappy apartment to be home, and the part where apparently he gave a crap about two complete strangers’ love lives.

*****

On Christmas Eve, Sacred Beans closed early, at six. Chris and Nick were working the close together, and as the afternoon wore on, and the local stores started to close their doors, the lunchtime flood of customers that had seen them run off their feet slowed to a mere trickle. Tattoos Dude turned up around four thirty, and stood at the counter to chat briefly – turned out that the local comics store had just shut its doors, and he was pretty happy about not having to work the final shift before the holiday, setting up for the post-Christmas sales. Happy enough that he shoved a twenty dollar bill into the tip box, and asked for extra syrup and an extra shot in his peppermint mocha.

"I probably shouldn’t – I’m jumpy enough already - but – what the fuck. It’s only Christmas Eve once a year, right?" he said, while Nick was checking boxes on the order strip.

"Exactly. It’s worth celebrating" Nick said, and slid an extra cookie onto the plate with Tattoo’s muffin. Chris noticed, as he passed the super-sized super-sweet triple-shot across the counter, that the cookie was one of the iced mistletoe ones he’d been teasing Nick with since they came into stock earlier in the month.

"If I didn’t know that you were rooting for Specs, I’d worry that you were flirting," Chris said in a low voice as the two of them stood side by side, Nick straightening the displays on the counter, and Chris idly drying a just-washed milk jug.

Nick leaned over and gave Chris a shoulder bump. "He’s not my type."

"Oh yeah? Short, dark haired, tattooed caffeine junkies ..."

"Shut up!" Nick replied with another nudge. "You know what I meant."

Chris did, and for someone as cynical and paranoid as Chris thought he was, that was pretty amazing.

God, he was getting sappy in his old age.

Just after five Specs drifted into Sacred Bean and Chris had to duck down under the guise of checking the fridge to keep from laughing out loud at the way Specs looked around the second he was inside the door, and the way his eyes settled immediately on Tattoos, and the way Tattoos looked up when the door opened, and then quickly dodged back behind his comic.

The two guys were so not even slightly subtle.

Still, when Chris had made up Spec’s coffee, the lanky guy made a beeline for his usual seat in the window, and Chris found himself almost frustrated by it. He got being cautious, but – really – they had to have noticed that it was mutual by now, surely?

"Stop staring," Nick whispered, and Chris jumped. He hadn’t head Nick come up next to him.

"I’m not!" Chris insisted, still whispering, and Nick just raised one eyebrow. "Fine." Chris goosed Nick, and went out to the back room to finish off all that he could to make sure the pair of them would get out of the store as early as possible. So what if two of their customers couldn’t get together – he had a fabulous boyfriend to take care of tonight.

Around twenty to six, Tattoos, Specs, and a pair of middle aged women were the only customers left in the store, the mugs were all washed and racked, the store cupboard as cleared down as it could be without closing, and Nick and Chris had resorted to jotting down increasingly obscene lyrics to the vastly over-played songs on the official store CD to pass the time.

About five minutes later, the ladies collected up their bags and headed out into the night, and Chris kept catching himself watching their two remaining regulars, willing one of them to do something.

Nick was less subtle.

Grabbing a tray, he headed over to clear the departed women’s table, and then stopped, level with Tattoo Dude’s table.

"Hey, man," Chris heard him say, and then Nick bent down further, lowering his voice, and no matter how hard Chris tried, he couldn’t make it out. The gist was clear enough from the way both of them looked over at Specs, and then over to Chris, and then Tattoos had glanced back at Specs and bitten his lip. Nick left him with a manly clap to the shoulder, and came back to the counter, mugs and plates clattering on the tray.

"What did you say to him?" Chris hissed, but rather than answering, Nick took Chris firmly by the upper arm.

"You and me, store room, now," was all he said, before hauling Chris away.

Chris who, if he was honest, had had more than one fantasy about Nick bending him over the crates in the store cupboard and doing wicked, wicked things to his ass stumbled along with Nick, all thought of customers forgotten.

Nick shoved the door closed behind them, and then pinned Chris up against it, their aprons vastly complicating the Nick’s-thigh-between-Chris’s arrangement they both went for, but just the raw pressure, and the fact of Nick taking control like this was enough to make Chris hot, devouring Nick’s kisses, and running his hands over Nick’s broad back.

All too soon, though, Nick pulled back.

"Okay,", he panted, mostly to himself. "Okay. We can make it fifteen minutes, right?"

"What?" said Chris, thoroughly confused.

"Till we’re off work." Nick wiped a hand across his mouth, and that really wasn’t helping Chris not use Nick’s hair to pull him back into the kiss. "No. Right. Got to go back out. The till’s open, the door’s open."

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Chris muttered, beating his head against the door behind him. "You’re right. I don’t like it, but you are. God-damn being a grown up," he grumped.

Nick answered with a swift, hard kiss. "I hate me too, if that helps?" he said, with one hand still on Chris’s neck and face. "God, I want you. In the store cupboard. How wrong it that?" Nick hesitated, then added, "Don’t answer that. We need to go finish work, yes?"

Chris nodded reluctantly, and when Nick moved back, Chris pried himself off the door. Pausing with the door handle in his hand, Chris looked back over his shoulder.

"Go, or we’re both going to get fired," Nick said, and Chris grinned and groaned simultaneously, but he went.

The store was deserted.

"Nick, what did you say to him?"

"Um, I kind of told him to go for it? With Specs?"

"So, what, either they had a fight and have both fled the scene, or they’re in the toilets making out?"

"Or Tattoo Dude chickened out and left, or Specs left and Tattooo Dude went after him to make his move? Fuck – I just wanted to give them a few minutes privacy. What if they fought?"

"There’s no, like, evidence of a fight," Chris pointed out, peering over to Spec’s table, where there was still half a mug of coffee and most of a muffin. "Is the till still there?"

Nick was back behind the counter. "Yep. At least it wasn’t all some complicated scam to rip off the store."

Chris just stopped and looked at Nick, like, where did that come from?

Nick grinned and waves his hand at Chris. "Whatever – you clearing that table?"

"I got it."

Tables cleared, the mugs in the dishwasher, along with the last pair of jugs and everything else. Nick gathered up the baked goods in an unfeasibly large pile and hauled them back to the fridge in a single journey, and Chris dumped the trash and locked the door, both of them hurrying, wordlessly, not even discussing the seven minutes technically left on the clock.

"Done," Nick announced, planting both hands on the counter, either side of Chris, who was locking the till.

"Done," Chris agreed, and tilted his head back for an awkward over the shoulder kiss.

He was going to say something like ‘ wanna get out of this place’, but it was hard to think of words when Nick was pressed up against him, hands roaming over Chris’s body. It wasn’t as electric and new as the slightly desperate lunge for the lips that had started everything a year ago; it was better. Nick was sure of him now. There was none of that tentative, careful stuff - they knew each other, loved each other, and when Nick grabbed hold of his shoulders and bodily turned Chris to face Nick, kissed him soundly, and then slid to his knees, Chris was pretty sure that if the world got any better than this, then his head was going to explode.

*****

Two days later

Early shifts sucked, and early shifts where he was working alone, and that followed straight after getting drunk at his mom’s sucked double. At least he’d had Nick to lean on on way home last night – crawling out of bed less than seven hours later was a solo project, and not even working in a source of endless caffeine and sugar was making Chris happier about things.

It was a miserable grey day and he was scheduled to be at the Sacred Bean a full hour before any of the local stores opened, so his only customers were fellow retail monkeys, all of whom got to start work later than he did. To top it off, when Chris checked the phone, the other guy who was supposed to be on shift, Brian, had called in sick.

All in all Chris was less than happy as he served drinks with a blatantly fake smile and only the most cursory of nods to the warm welcome the Sacred Bean allegedly prided itself on.

Not even the sight of Specs shuffling in, dragging his heavy boots and peering at the world from under his beanie hat, made the morning better, although when he ordered an extra shot in his latte and a double espresso on the side, Chris did manage a commiseratory ‘morning’s, huh?’ for him.

The sight of a second unfamiliar morning customer, though – that made Chris sit up and pay attention. Tattoo Dude didn’t look all that enthused about the early start, but as soon as he was through the door, he was looking about, and the grin on his face when he saw Specs ...

"Hey," Chris greeted Tattoos warmly. "Kind of an early start, huh?"

"What? Oh, um, yeah." Tattoo Dude seemed jumpy, distracted, and Chris had to work to hide his smile. Behind them Specs was staring moodily into his coffee cup, as though it might contain the answer to life, the universe, and everything, but he wasn’t really holding out a lot of hope.

"Hambone’s got me opening at the store. I need a coffee before I go face that!" Tattoo explained. "Peppermint Mocha?"

"You want that to go?" Chris asked. "If you’ve got to open up?"

"Nah," Tattoos glanced over his shoulder and shuffled a little. "I got time to sit and drink."

"Coming up, then." Chris grabbed an extra large mug, and retreated back behind the espresso machine. When he emerged again, to pass over the steaming drink, Tattoos was staring over at Specs, who still hadn’t looked up.

"Here you go, man," Chris said, making Tattoos startle, and trying not to grin like a maniac as he slid the mug across the counter.

"Thanks," Tattoo Dude said, absently, and headed off towards Specs. Chris watched carefully, and if anyone had been observing, his reputation as a cynic would have been totally blow away.

When Tattoo got to a few yards away from Specs, Specs finally looked up, and even across the store, Chris could see the joy spread over his expression – fleeting, but definitely there, and Specs tried to put down his mug and stand up all at the same time, and ended up lurching to one side, which gave Tattoos the chance to reach out and steady Specs with one hand on Specs' hoodie-clad upper arm. Chris thought for one enthusiastic second that they were going to kiss right there – there was that sort of of uncertain will-he-won-t-he-which-way-um going on in the body language, and then Tattoos must have said something, because Specs flashed that huge disarming grin again, and subsided into his chair.

Chris could hear the store door open, and a sudden burst of voices that meant more than one person coming in together, but he didn’t look away from the scene playing out across the room. Tattoo took the seat next to Specs, and Chris couldn’t see either of their faces, but the way their legs were bumped up together – big black boots and battered sneakers – that was almost as sweet as the way Specs’ hand was dangling over the chair arm, right where Tattoos’ hand could brush against it.

"Um," said a customer, and Chris redirected the smile that was pushing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hi," he said. "Welcome to the Sacred Bean – what can I get you this fine morning?"

From there on in, Chris barely had time to breathe. He’d have cursed Brian’s name if he didn’t know the guy must be ninety percent dead to have called in, because Chris was run off his feet as a solo. He’d snatched thirty seconds to duck into the store room to text Nick – _‘Guess who’s holding hands in the store right now?’_ – and come back to a line six people long, and it had just gone from there.

He’d felt his phone buzz in his pocket twice, and had no choice but to ignore it until he poured the last of the soya milk out of the carton.

"I’m sorry – let me go grab a new one," Chris said to the teenager who’d ordered the drink, and cast an eye over the rest of the store before scurrying back to the store room. Specs and Tattoos were still sitting together, leaning in towards each other.

One handed, Chris opened the big fridge and felt about for a carton of soya, while thumbing his phone to bring up the messages.

 _‘Better not be you and Brian. xOx’_ and then ‘ _Damn – Specs and Tattoo came in?’ ___

__‘ _Brian has plague’_ Chris typed, and then _‘Yes – together’_._ _

__Chris hit send, and then dove back into the fray, making drinks and taking cash, and not even slightly keeping up with the dirty mugs that were starting to pile up as people finished drinks and left. He really had to get out there and pick up, but every time he thought about leaving the counter, someone else came in._ _

__"C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,’ he muttered under his breath, at the large jug of fridge-cold milk that was taking forever to start to froth._ _

__"Hi," said a customer._ _

__"Good morning, what can I get you?" Chris answered, without looking up._ _

__"Um, actually, we came by to see if that other guy was working. The tall blond one?" A different voice._ _

__Chris blinked, and looked over. Across the counter stood Specs and Tattoo Dude, hand in hand. Chris couldn’t help but smile at them. The guy in line behind them was still looking at the muffins, and didn’t seem bothered by them chatting a little._ _

__"You mean Nick? No, he’s not on today. But, um. You know we’re –" Chris waved his spare hand in an intricate pattern that could be translated roughly as ‘togther’ "Right?" They both nodded, and Tattoo’s grin was extra bright, a hint of red touching his cheeks. "Can I, like, take a message?"_ _

__Specs and Tattoos looked at each other, and Chris was going to have to shoot himself for being such a sap, but the silent moment of communication was kind of adorable to see._ _

__"Yeah, actually," Tattoo Dude said. Specs put a shiny blue and silver gift bag on the counter. "Could you give him this? And tell him Frank and Mikey say thank you?"_ _

__~End~_ _


End file.
